War and Betrayal
by Abraxania
Summary: While Voldemort has been defeated, the Great War rages on. To end the Civil War overtaking the Wizarding World, Hermione does the unthinkable and saves someone nobody thought she would. R
1. Prologue

_Welcome everybody to my first fanfiction._

_I hope you will enjoy it. The chapters might be a bit shorter than you all are used to, but for a good reason._

_English isn't my first language (I'm German) so it's quite hard for me to translate everything in English. But fortunalety I found a "personal reviewer" and native speaker: **atruwriter**/ Amanda who is going through my (very) rough English version and correcting it (grammar, vocabulary… you know exactly the difficulties with a language you only learn at school, I guess ;))_

_**Thanks a lot Amanda!** You do a wonderful job and I really appreciate it!_

_To make it an easier job for me and for Amanda, the chapters may be a bit shorter than usual, so it's not too much work for atruwriter (she has too keep writing her own stories, or a lot of people will be very angry with me) I try to update at least weekly..._

_If there are any german guys hanging around here… I will publish the german version quite soon._

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope my English wasn't too bad, but here is the corrected Prologue ;) Enjoy it!_

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**Prologue  
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He was laying on his back, listening to the melody of the fight fading slowly. His eyes were shut tightly; he didn't even try to open them. He knew what it looked like on the battlefield. He could smell the cold sweat, the blood,and the vomit. It was the strange flavour of the war that followed every single battle. It didn't make any difference if it was a victory or a defeat. The slaughter was over. For a short time. The war took a small break only to strike back again later. Even harder, more merciless and bloodier. Until one side was destroyed. Or both.

The historians have already written down the story of the Great War to their books. In one chapter, it it filed as being the most cruel and deathly war to even come to the Wizarding world. But it had come to a happy end with  
the defeat of the darkest wizard of all. Voldemort.

Witches and wizards from all over the world weren't frightened anymore by the simple sound of his name: The Dark Lord, or You-know-who. And that was how he had lost his true power at last, the lack of fear for his name.

They had written his name down a thousand times in the books. And nothing would remain of the power it had once held. He would become a story book character. A story that parents were telling their children to make them behave. "Be good or Lord Voldemort will come for you," was the lesson.

Yes, the time of the Dark Lord was over. This chapter of history was done. But the historians were wrong with one very important fact. The Grat War wasn't over. The Great War had just begun.

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

_Here it is: chapter 1. I hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks a lot to **atruwriter** who did a wonderful job again! She corrected my English and I must admit: it's a better read now. Well, I hope my English is getting better soon. Learning by doing!_

_Please check out the exceptional stories "Blood is thicker than tears" and "Growing" written by my Canadian friend and beta-reader **atruwriter.** These two stories are my favourites! But now enjoy the new chapter of "War and Betrayal"_

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**Chapter 1**

He had become everything his father had wanted him to be; strong, lethal, and one of the most powerful wizards of his time. He had blocked out his conscience a long time ago; ignoring any human thought it may bombard him with. He had obeyed every single time, without question.

His whole life he had been trained to be his father's heir, to be his counterpart. But still he was nothing more than his inferior, his henchman. He was exactly what his father had been dreaming about: his most competent and efficient weapon.

His father held the power and he did the dirty work for him. It wasn't because he wanted to or because he loved his father. No, he condemned his father; but he was the man who had raised him.

He wasn't afraid of the repulsive acts he had to perform to fulfil his father's commands. No, he considered them as challenges. He had always loved to test out his limits, to push himself near to the very edge of everything; where he teetered, but triumphed. He had lived a life of extremes; fortunately his might and his skills had grown with the years. He had forced his body and mind to do more than humanly possible to make up for his failure as a son in his younger years. His father had urged him to push himself again and again, to defeat himself. But he never got forgiveness from his father, because there was one thing left. He never succeeded in overcoming the only thing he really was afraid of deep in his soul: his feelings.

Emotions his father had taught him, when he was a young boy, were nothing more than weakness. And love was the most foolish feeling of all. It made him vulnerable; made him a target because of his weakness. It turn he learned to close his mind to love. Yes, he possessed the feelings to love, but he never used them. Nonetheless the feelings he took such care in suppressing had brought back the conscious he had ignored for so long. And he knew the moral voice in his head was the beginning of his own destruction.

And that was why he laid here; he had hesitated, shown indecision. His conscience had stopped him from doing something cruel, finally completing what it had been trying to do all along. His well-deserved punishment was his approaching death.

It had been a young girl who he had faced today. Her hair was long, curly, and walnut brown. She had a delightful face but it was contorted with fear as she noticed him. Almost every witch and wizard knew his face; for most of them it was the last thing they saw in their life before death came for them.

His orders had been clear and easy: He had to hit them where it would hurt worst; to cause the critical hit that would lead his side to victory. He was supposed to wreak havoc between the rearguard, only consisting of young and callow wizards and witches which were only there in case of great distress. His order was to murder all of them; every single one. But then he had stood face to face with that girl; she had discovered him as he had tried to weave throughout the rearguard, his face was half covered by his hood. When he reached the center, where his plan had been to strike from, he had been hoping to benefit from the chaos and confusion. However, things turned out different.

The girl was about sixteen years old; a poor little soul who should've spent her time in Hogwarts instead of fighting on the battlefield.

Hogwarts.

The thought of his former school and the time he had spent there released a chain-reaction within his mind and the memories involving past days of his youth, making him feel wistful and sad. It had been the most light-hearted time of his entire life; he had loved those days until they were destroyed by his own actions. Love was the most dangerous emotion of all; it made him vulnerable during a vital moment.

He hadn't been able to speak the lethal spell; too busy waiting for the pictures of his youth to pass by so that he could continue with his recent life: the war, the annihilation. But the pictures didn't leave his mind, they continued to bombard him, to distract him, and the girl used her last chance. The curse hit him unexpectedly; it wasn't fatal, but he was injured badly and he could feel his blood and life draining out of his body. He was surprised that the thought of dying didn't bother him at all; part of him may have even welcomed it. There was nothing to hold him back and there was nobody to lament him.

"Get over here! I found him!" he heard a woman yelling over the deserted battlefield.

Several people were running towards him. Someone was kneeling down by his side and turning his head back and forth. He wasn't able to speak; he tried, but his mouth didn't even move.

"Is he dead?" asked the choked voice of a woman. The voice sounded strangely familiar to him, but he couldn't sort it out. His mind was already mentally deranged, becoming frazzled and confusing.

"Almost," answered a man's cool voice, sounding well known to him. He tried to shake the fog out of his head but he was too weak to move. Were these people here to help him?

"What are we going to do?" the woman sobbed.

"We can't burden us with him. We have to leave!" He wasn't sure if he heard a hidden regret in the man's tone.

"They will find him! We can't leave him behind like that!" the woman who had found him nearly screamed.

"You're completely right. We can't leave him behind like **that**." And this was when he recognized the cynical voice of his father. The other voice, belonging to his mother, had fallen silent.

He listened to her low sob which is when it became apparent: they weren't going to help him. He felt bitter and if he could, he would have smiled grimly. But there was no energy left in his body, no fight left in his soul. He knew what would happen now; he had done this many times himself. But he hadn't believed that it would happen to him too.

Then he heard the curse from the mouth of his own father. **"_Silencio totalis_!" **

The world around Draco darkened.


	3. Chapter 2

_I know it took some time but I had to work a lot so I finally translated that chapter last night. But fortunately it took Amanda only a few hours to correct it and send it back to me. Is my English getting better? I can't believe that ! Instead I'm quite sure that Amanda is the best corrector I could have found! So, thanks again to lovely Amanda for her great help._

_And I really loved to read your reviews. I hope you all keep on reading and reviewing my story! Enjoy the next chapter!_

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**Chapter 2**

"Harry! Hermione! Come over here! Quick!"

Harry raised his head and looked over to Ron, his face covered in a worried expression. Ron bent over a figure on the ground, a scowl fixed over his mouth. Harry wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead, the dust burned his face as he rubbed it into the skin. Still he was surprised every time that his forehead was plain and without any sign of the scar that had formally marked him ever since his mother had died for him. It disappeared the day when he had defeated Voldemort several years ago; to be accurate it had been six years, three months and nine days ago. This day was burned into his mind, not only because of the destruction of the Dark Lord.

Sighing, he made his way over to Ron and Hermione, who was now bent over the lifeless body too. Harry felt the urge to run, feeling an overwhelming fear of what might be laying on the ground awaiting his gaze; instead, he slowed down a bit. Condemned were these moments when Ron, Hermione and he walked over the abhorred battlefield searching for survivors and numerous injured people. They found too little survivors and too many dead bodies, they couldn't help anymore. However, he promised Hermione they'd weather through it together, to help those they were able to be saved.  
Too many times the Trio had bent over wizards and witches they knew; whose faces had been enlightened by a smile only a few hours prior. Soon after, they were dead and their blind eyes stared up to the sad, angered heroes and heroines, inhaling sharply but trying to hold back the tears that had pricked their eyes so many times before. This war had taken too many victims, and Harry knew his fear that it wouldn't stop for a long time was justified.Closing his eyes, he stepped over a distorted figure on the ground, their legs stuck out in strange angles. Harry didn't have to check for a pulse to know that these legs wouldn't walk ever again. He shivered when his cloak got caught on the shoe of the dead for a short moment.  
As he lifted his eyelids he saw Ron and Hermione discussing fiercely. Hermione had stuck her hands onto her hips, a clear sign that she was ready to fight, and leaned forward to Ron hissing a teeth-gritted reply to him. Ron had crossed his arms in front of his chest, shaking his head vehemently. His face was reddened because of the hot tempered verbal fight, the colour of his skin nearly matched his blazing red hair that he had bound back in his neck in a ponytail.

"Harry!" Ron called to him. "Harry! Tell her she can't do this!" he told him, motion to her like she was a mad woman.

Harry sighed; since their engagement half a year ago, Ron and Hermione were arguing more often. He didn't know what it was all about; neither Ron nor Hermione talked to him about it. Once they had promised themselves that they wouldn't complain behind each other's back because they wanted to avoid playing themselves against each other, he had high hopes their bickering would end. They had been afraid that their friendship wouldn't overcome something like that, but now Ron didn't even mention Hermione when he was talking to Harry. Hermione in return, ignored Ron's name completely when she was with Harry. Harry feared the worst; he was quite sure it had something to do with Hermione's refusal to marry Ron while the Civil War was still taking over the Wizarding world.  
A few weeks ago, Harry had listened unintentionally to one of their discussions. Ron had been very upset and yelled after Hermione, who was stomping away: "You're just harping on about principles! The same thing you do with your stupid "save-the-house-elves" actions! It's completely up the pole!" Harry shook his head; Ron was a wonderful person. He was brave like a lion and had a heart of hold. He really loved Hermione deeply, but still he had a lack of tactfulness. He had been like this his entire life making Harry quite sure that Ron wouldn't change anytime in the future.  
Harry took a deep breath and jumped over a splintered rock, in a thousand shattered pieces; a curse must have hit it during the fight. He hoped deeply that he wasn't about to be thrown into another row between his friends; he was fed up with any kind of war.

"Ron! You're the most selfish man I've ever met! Harry! Say something!" Hermiones eyes were nothing more but narrow slashs and she glared angrily at Ron.

"The most selfish man you've ever met? That is what you think of me?" Ron snorted, despisingly. "I have to disagree, my dear Hermione. The most egotistic man you ever got to know, lies in front of your feet." With fury, he kicked the limp body on the ground.

"Ron! Stop it! Immediately!" Hermione hissed.

Harry stared at his longtime friend with astonishment; Ron normally didn't behave like that. Harry turned towards the figure in the dust of the battlefield, trying to find an explanation for his best friends behaviour. Ron, who had observed his friends actions, stepped down beside him, giving Harry the full view of the contorted body. Harry's eyes followed Ron's dramatic gesture to the ground and held his breath startled. In front of him, in the dust, lay a young man; a single glance at the nearly white-blonde hair told him who the figure on the ground was. "That… that is…." Harry was speechless, unable to form words in his head nor his mouth.

Ron, however, was only too willing to help out. "Draco Malfoy! Exactly!" he exclaimed, triumphantly.

Harry kneeled down and searched for the pulse at Draco's bloodstained throat. He recognized a weak and erratic throbbing beneath his fingertips. "He's still alive!" Harry looked more accurately over Draco Malfoy's body, his enemy since the very first day he had arrived at Hogwarts. The viewable skin was covered with bursted bruises but there had to be worse wounds for a huge puddle of blood was spread beneath his torso. Harry gave him about half an hour before Malfoy would bleed to death. "Doesn't look good for him, does it?" It was more a statement than a question he said to Hermione.  
She nodded, turn to Ron and yelling, "And in the opinion of this git, he should stay here until then! We're running out of time!" she said, impatiently, her face taking on one of conern for a human, quite in contrast to Ron's look of pure disgust for an enemy.

"Harry!" Ron shouted back, unfazed by Hermione's beliefs. "Please make clear to her who she's talking about! That isn't any wizard she wants to help; it's Draco Malfoy! Our worst enemy!"

"You really want to help him?" Harry calmly asked her, already knowing the answer before she even opened her mouth.

"Harry, I help all of them! You know that we don't ignore anybody. I don't give a damn about if they're Death Eaters or not!" she replied, honestly.

Harry nodded; Hermione always had helped them too. She had medicated them provisionally as good as she was able to, leaving them behind when she was finished. Perhaps they would be found by their allies, but if they weren't then she had given them at least a fair chance to be rescued. It was her contribution to the peace she dreamt about; the end of War with the merging and understanding of all blood lines coming to accept one another equally.

"Hermione! For Merlin's sake, just look around! Can you see the dead? The corpses spread all over the battlefield? What are you thinking? How many of them were killed by Malfoy? Two? Ten? Or perhaps, even more likely, 100?" he reminded, his voice dark but full of a likely large amount of truth. "He's a murderer! If he dies we would be closer to victory than every battle against the dark wizards. Don't you understand?" he wondered, shaking his head at her as if she weren't thinking at all. His eyes were wide, as if pleading with her to look in them and see that he was right and she was incredibly wrong.

"I understand you very well! You don't have to yell at me," Hermione hissed back. "But I'm going to continue to stick to my principles. I'll help everyone; even if it's Draco Malfoy!" she said, adamantly. Bending down, Hermione searched Draco's torso for the wound where all the blood drained from.  
Ron couldn't believe she was still going against what he said, after the obvious situation of Malfoy being a killer; boiling with rage he turned his sights on his other best friend. "Harry! You have to forbid it; she won't listen to me! She's actually taking care of our worst enemy! He's a bloodthirsty, unscrupulous killer! How many of our friends did he murder?" he wondered, but didn't wait for an answer. "He nearly killed Dumbledore!"

"But he didn't murder him," Hermione reminded.

"And this makes a saint out of him?" Ron asked, his voice agast with disbelief. "Oh come on, Hermione! He's a monster!" Shaking his head, he pointed down at the limp body with vogor. "Perhaps it was even him who had killed Ginny!" he accused.

Harry felt his heart aching as he heard Ron mentioning her name. The memory of her death was like a punch in the stomach; stirring up painful emotions that gripped his heart and physical body.Ginny; his one and only love.  
Harry had wanted to protect her, so he had kept her away from everything dangerous which meant keeping her out of his life too, as much as possible. It nearly broke his heart, but his secret hope that her love to him would decrease with the passing time made it easier; for both of them had been an erroneous mess. He had seen it in her eyes every single time they met accidentally; he knew that she could see straight through his eyes into his heart. But she had accepted his decision, waiting quietly for time to change. And time did change but everything just kept getting worse

Harry had had to admit that the war had caught up with everyone even those who had tried to keep away. And in one weak moment he had given into his longings, had convinced himself that she was safer with than without him on the battlefield; he had been such a fool. This all had happened six years, three months and ten days ago. Finally they had given themselves over wholly to their love but only if Ginny promised him that she would always stay near him; for her own safety.Harry closed his eyes, trying to suppress the upcoming bitter emotions. With that promise, Ginny had signed her death sentence.

_Harry was totally inebriated by the fight with the Dark Lord. Fixed on his only goal to defeat Lord Voldemort forever, he didn't notice what happened around him. He didn't see that Lucius Malfoy had hurried over to help his master, so when Harry noticed the face of the cruel Death Eater it was already too late. The lethal curse had already left Lucius' wand and a green shot of light shot in his direction. But then he heard a choked cry as someone moved from behind him, before taking the place between him and the curse as a living shield._

_Then suddenly everything seemed to speed up; Harry's and Voldemort's wand connected in Priori Incantatem when a lifeless figure fell crushed against his right side. A long red strand of hair fell over his arm causing Harry's discovery of the hurtful truth. His yell was dreadful, screaming out the endless words to the worst of all Unforgivable Curses. Voldemort, who had spoken a moment earlier, was overwhelmed by the power of Harry's rage. Harry's wand pushed back the power of his adversary's wand, letting the lethal spell hit Voldemort in his own chest. Harry didn't waste a glance at his defeated enemy, instead catching the limp body that fell down to the ground beside him._

_"Ginny! No!" he cried, burying his face in her long red hair. He rocked her body back and forth, whispering gently but frantic words to her, irrationally awaiting an answer that would never come. Her eyes were empty and blind, so unlike the regular spark that swirled in her beautiful blue orbs. His angry, glowing green eyes searched with concentrated hate for Lucius Malfoy, but Ginny's murderer had already run away after watching his Lord's defeat. Harry twined his arms around Ginnys shoulders; keeping her tightly against him. He was so sick of being saved by the death of the ones he dearly loved; his parents, Sirius, and now… Ginny. He would have given his life a thousand times over to safe her._

And that was how they had found him cowering on the ground, delerious with grief, and the dead Ginny in his arms. Upon realizing his sister had fallen to her death, Ron's legs gave out, gravity ripping him to the ground beside Harry who stared at Ron with desperation, overwhelmed with guilt.

"Ginny," had been the only thing that Ron had whispered.

Since then her name was never mentioned again and Ron had never asked what had happened, until this moment where he spoke his contempt for Malfoy, sure of his guilt over the loss of the lovely Weasley sister.

"He didn't murder her," Harry told him in a low voice.

Shocked, Ron's eyes lifted, frozen on Harry's face.

"It was his father," Harry admitted.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 3

_There it is : Chapter 3! Sorry, it took some time to update, but I've been very busy and so was Amanda / atruwriter, my wonderful corrector. But I hope ypu enjoy the chapter. Please keep reading and reviewing! Chapter 4 will be updated within the next few hours!_

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**Chapter 3**

Hermione stared, with her mound wide open, at Harry and Ron. She knew how much they suffered at the loss of Ginny; it had always been her opinion that both of them wouldn't overcome their grief without talking about it, but she had tolerated their silent agreement. Hermione understood how much it had pained Ron's soul that he didn't know what had exactly happened to his little sister. Sometimes he cried silently beside her at nights, when he thought her to be asleep. He would never have shown his loss and desperation openly to her; that was one of the reasons that made their relationship such a complicated one.

Ron always had been ashamed for any kind of emotion; it had taken years until he had confessed his love for Hermione, even though she had known of his feelings since that ball at Hogwarts in their fourth year. But she had kept her growing feelings towards Ron a secret for quite a long time too. She had been too afraid to lose one of her best friends and had been frightened of Harry's reaction.

But last summer, she hadn't been able to ignore her feelings if seeing Ron as more than just a very close friend any longer. Her gaze had been following Ron's wide and muscular shoulders everywhere he went; he was tall and athletic and the war had covered his face with slight grim expression. He always wore his long red hair bound back with a simple band;. Hermione had smiled when thoughts reminding her of one of those well-built heroes in those trashy muggle novels her mother was so fond of filtered into her head. Even though Hermione had always preferred her textbooks she sometimes couldn't resist the charm of those stories.

One day, Harry had sat down beside her as she had been lost in watching Ron as he took off his cloak; Hermione had reddened immediately, but when she looked at Harry there was only a mocking sparkle in his eyes and knowing smile on his lips. And that was when she had realized that there was nothing to be afraid of. A few weeks later Ron and she had made their way together and no one had been the slightest surprised. In fact Hermione had the strange feeling that everybody had been relieved when they finally announced their engagement half a year later.

The sense of draining blood between her fingers took her back from her memories to cruel reality. Ron and Harry were still gazing at each other in silence. Hermione knew that she had to act now or the life of the wizard in front of her feet would come to an end in the very next moments. She cleared her throat and spoke in a soft voice: "Harry."

Her friend shook his head for a short moment as if he wanted to clear his mind of the painful memories before being able to focus on the present.

Hermione outstretched her blood covered hands and silently pleaded for his support. Harry sighed and seemed to think something over.

Ron was still in too much shock to say anything.

"Hermione, Ron is right with an important fact. We can't help Malfoy and then leave him here to be found by his allies like the others. That's far too dangerous; he isn't a normal Death Eater."

The was a glint of triumph in Ron's eyes while he listened to Harry's words.  
Hermione dropped her head, she had believed that Harry would understand her intentions.

"But we can't let him die either," Harry continued. "We have to take him with us."

"What?" Ron stared at his friend in pure disbelief. "You can't be serious, Harry?"

But Harry only nodded, receiving a thankful smile from Hermione. She ripped Malfoys shirt apart and pointed with her wand at the deep strongly bleeding wound. Slowly the wound closed, stopping the blood streaming out of it. Hermione checked again for Malfoy's pulse, she frowned with worry as she hardly felt the weak heartbeat. Had they waited too long? She looked at his deathly pale face and knew that her provisional help wouldn't be enough to safe Malfoy's life; he had lost too much blood. The only thing that would help him now was a blood-forming magic potion but she hadn't any with her.

"Harry, he needs more medication or he will die here beneath my hands! We have to bring him to a sick bay."

Harry understandingly nodded his head in agreement, his messy raven hair caught the sunlight for a moment. "Then let's go. Ron you take his left arm and I will take his right one."

Ron stubbornly didn't move. "Harry, the next sick bay is over half an hour walking time away. And with the weight of Malfoy we need more than twice the time. He'll die on the way."

Hermione looked grimly at her fiancé, a surge of annoyance at his lack of optimism or help. "Then we'll apparate," she countered defiantly.

Ron laughed out loud. "Hermione! Do I have to remind you that the Ministry has forbidden apparating during wartime? We're the only ones left who are allowed to apparate in the Wizarding World; to St. Mungo's because we take care of the injured. And you really believe that anyone there will be willing to help Malfoy? The Ministry will cancel our licence to apparate when they recognize that you had helped a whole bunch of Death Eaters for years now! And then, how will you help our injured in the future when you aren't allowed to apparate to St. Mungo's anymore?"

Hermione bit her lip; she hated to admit that Ron got a point at that. She couldn't risk losing her licence to apparate at the hospital for wizards and witches, but then an idea enlightened her face. "The portkey!" she exclaimed and started searching in her cloak for the little box that contained a portkey in the shape of a necklace.

Ron's face turned pale "You can't do that! I gave the portkey to you only in case of great distress! It will take Malfoy straight to our base! It's sheer lunacy!"

Hermione had already kneeled down beside Malfoy and covered nearly all of his face with the hood of his cloak. She laid Draco's head on her knees and twined her arm around his shoulder to hold him in tight grip. In her right hand she still hold the opened little box; the necklace glistened in the light. She only had to turn and capture the necklace with her other hand. "Harry?" she pleaded. For a moment Harry looked deep into her eyes, staring at her was his unreadably mysterious gaze, but then he nodded. Ron gave a load groan; completely disapproving of the whole idea.. Hermione smiled and aspirated, "Thank you," as she caught the portkey with her other hand and the world around her started to swirl.

Her grip still clutched Malfoy as the swirling slowed down and they fell down to a lush green meadow. Carefully Hermione put the immobile body down onto the grass and jumped up, she looked around hectically, trying to locate their position. They were near a dark forest; only a few steps away there was a small round cottage where smoke came out of the chimney. It was such a peaceful image compared to the desolate battlefield where she had been standing only a few moments ago. She sighed in relief, realizing what they had landed. "Hagrid!" she called out as loud as she was able to. Hermione could hear some barking within the cottage and only a second later, a well known person tore the front door open.

"'ermione! Fer Merlin's sake! What are ya doing 'ere?" Hagrid hobbled over to her as fast as possible. About two years ago he had been injured badly during a huge battle and they hadn't been able to heal his shattered leg completely. Since then he was confined indoors nearly all of the time, Hermione knew that the idleness was a huge pain in his neck. Suddenly Hagrid was rooted to the spot, his gaze fell on the figure with the black cloak in the grass. "Oh Merlin, 'ermione! Tell me that isn't…"

Hermione denied his assumption quickly, "No, Hagrid; Ron and Harry are okay. That's just someone badly injured. Please, I need your help. He's too heavy for me."

Hagrid nodded with relief before reaching for the body on the ground. He lifted the limp form as if it had no weight, but when he tried to get a better grip of his burden the hood Hermione had placed carefully slid down from the unresistingly librating head. The white-blonde hair that nearly reached Malfoy's chin gleamed in a bright silver colour on the dark cloak. Hagrid caught his breath, startled, before looking over to Hermione with confusion in his eyes.

Instead of an explanation, she gave him a pleading look.

Hagrid cleared his throat and looked at her with an unsearchable expression. "Well… it's been a long time since I took this guy to the 'ospital Wing the last time."

Hermione gave him a weak smile, following Hagrid's limping steps the rampant way up to the deserted school. For years there hadn't been normal classes any more; the Ministry of Magic had suspended the classes for young witches and wizards. An interim injunction set up a school in London where the young magicians only attended to a short class of Defence against the Dark Arts. Other magical abilities, the Ministry argued, would be taught in time of peace again, but the defence against the Death Eaters were at top priority, of course only to protect the new blood. But Hermione and her friends knew that the Ministry only tried to recruit young witches and wizard for the war as fast as possible.

So, Hogwarts had been closed and the Trio had decided to use their former school as their base as the last stronghold against the attacking Death Eaters. During the war, St. Mungo's turned out to be completely overcrowded and the sick bays nearly couldn't cope with the rush of injured and wounded wizards. Hermione and her friends had offered to use the former Hospital Wing of the school for the accommodation and the nursing of the injured people who needed an interminable treatment. And that was where Hagrid and Hermione were heading for with the wounded Draco Malfoy.

The moment they reached the Hospital Wing, the leading healer stepped through the door. Hermione raced to him, "Neville!" she cried.

The healer turned around completely surprised; it was Neville Longbottom who provided the invalids in Hogwarts with his extraordinary skills and knowledge of plants and healing potions.

Hermione nearly cried in relief as she saw the face of her former schoolfellow. She fell into his arms that he offered to her. "Hermione! Are you ok? Where are Ron and Harry? Did something happen to them?"

Hermione shook her head and wiped a single tear away, embarrassed, from the corner of her eye. "It's a long story, Neville, but I have an injured person with me. He lost a lot of blood and is near death. Do you still have some of those blood-forming potions?"

Neville nodded and his gaze searched for the figure in Hagrid's arms. He froze at the point he stood and gasped. "Dr… Dra… Drac-c-c-o… M- m-m-alfoy?" His eyes widened in shock, Neville stared in pure disbelief at his tantaliser of past schooldays and his present enemy.

Hermione ignored his confusion and gave Hagrid the sign to follow her. "Hagrid bring him inside to the examination room!"

A sudden cant went through Neville's body and with a grit that wasn't typical for him at all, he stepped in the half-giant's way, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "No. You don't take him inside to the dormitory."

Hermione looked at her friend with frustration; of everyone she knew, she would've never expected Neville to deny an injured any kind of help. "You're not going to help him?" she asked with a choked voice.

"Of course I'll help him! What do you think of me, Hermione? But what do you believe will happen when you take him inside to the other inpatients? He's one of our worst enemies and nobody would understand it. Even if the blood-forming potion is going to save his life, what do you suppose will happen to him inside there? They would kill him."

Hermione nodded surprised; she hadn't thought about that.

Neville knitted his brows. "We have to take him somewhere where nobody would ever look for him."

Hagrid looked at Hermione questioningly, believing she would have the answer.

Hermione mused for a short moment, then she said to Hagrid with a resolute voice: "Bring him to the Gryffindor-Tower."

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tbc  



	5. Chapter 4

_This is my personal 'thank you' to Amanda. I don't know what I would do without her help. I hope you enjoy this chapter too. It will take a few days before I update again. I'm leaving for a short trip for 3 days. Enjoy! And of course I'd love reading a whole bunch of reviews when I get back home on sunday ;)_

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**Chapter 4**

"Will he make it, Neville?" Hermione asked the young healer at her side, sighing as she ran her hand over her forehead.

Neville Longbottom shrugged, "The night will tell. I administered the extra strong bloodforming potion; you know, the one with the Sanguisplagula-Herb. But he really did lose a lot of blood, Hermione. You should have brought him to me earlier."

Hermione snorted "I'm glad I could take him here at all."

"What's your plan if he wakes up again, Hermione? Did you give it a thought already?"

Hermione grimaced, giving Neville a helpless look.

"I thought so." Neville sighed. "May I suggest a plan, Hermione? If he really survives this, you should leave him to the Ministry. Perhaps they can get some information out of him with a Veritas-potion and then lock him up in Azkaban. I'm really try not being a chicken, Hermione." Neville smiled at his friend weakly. "But I would sleep much better if it wasn't under the same roof with Draco Malfoy."

Hermione stepped to the window, staring at the well-known school ground she had known since her eleventh year of life. When they had decided to make their old school their base, it seemed to be self-evident that Hermione returned to the former girls' dormitory. Even after her engagement to Ron, she considered the dormitory her real home.

Neville was right, her decision to help Malfoy would lead to consequences. He couldn't stay at Hogwarts forever and nobody knew what Draco Malfoy was capable of doing when he would have recovered. He had become a very powerful wizard and Hermione knew what repulsive acts he had done to fulfil the Dark Lords orders. There wouldn't be one of the Trio around all the time to watch him; the war had brought duties with it which sometimes kept them away from Hogwarts for weeks, which would surely happen again.

But how was she supposed to explain to the Ministry that she had taken care of Draco Malfoy? She was sure, that the Ministry preferred to see every Death Eater dead, especially Draco and his father. The Ministry had proven itself to be quite quick in their judgement over every witch and wizard. The Ministry of Magic had adjudged a lot of innocent people, sending them to Azkaban because of alleged high treason, and Hermione didn't want to join them. The war had become a time of denunciation and hatred. Hermione sighed, she would think it over later.

Meanwhile Neville had sat down beside his patient, taking off the ripped shirt from Malfoy's upper body. With concentration he scanned the ribs and the flat abdomen of the injured. Hermione stepped closer and watched Neville work. Malfoy's skin was even much paler than it had already been his entire life but there were thorough muscles emerging at his belly and arms. His shoulders weren't as wide as Ron's were but Malfoy was at least as tall as him and every inch of his well-built body told Hermione of his endurance and strength. Only a year-long arduous training could create such sinewy and steely muscles. It was obvious that Draco Malfoy was a strong opponent even without any use of magic.

"It seems that he hasn't any inner injuries. That's a good sign. You healed the huge wound under his rips very well, Hermione. And that bunch of bursted bruises on his skin have disappeared completely without after-effect, thanks to your spell." Neville gave Hermione a musing glance. "Are you sure that you don't want to help me with the injured? I know you said 'no' once, but I really would appreciate that, Hermione. You didn't train as a healer and still you're better than most of them at St. Mungo's."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't, Neville. I have to help Ron and Harry. I belong to their side on the battlefield. I'm an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, I couldn't just abandon that."

Neville Longbottom sighed. "I knew, you would say that. At least I know that you'll take care of Ron and Harry. Both of them are just too hotheaded."

In that second, Hermione heard Harry calling out for her: "Hermione? Where are you?"

"I'm here, Harry! Upstairs!"

Neville rose up "Well, I have to go too. The other patients are waiting for me."

She nodded, understandingly.

Neville's long and gawky figure rushed towards the portraithole that protected the entrance to the dormitory. One leg already outside the room, he turned around again and gave her a reassuring smile. "If you need any help just let me know. When he gets through this night, he'll make it."

Hermione gave him a thankful smile, following him to the portrait where she kept it open, waiting for Harry who hurried up the stairs. His black hair was totally messy and his glasses were full of dirt. Hermione had known that they would take their chance to fly back to Hogwarts on their brooms.

"Where's Ron?" she wondered, her eyes looking for her fiancé. But there was nobody behind him and she only saw Neville leaving the Gryffindor common room and the portrait of the Fat Lady fell shut.

"He said he wanted to take a little flight to the Quidditch grounds. He missed flying, you know." Harry stepped through the portraithole showing a yawning old knight who was muttering because of the interruption of his sleep. "Hermione, I know it's none of my business, but I wanted to talk with you about…" He stopped speaking and gazed at Malfoy who lay without his shirt on one of the beds in the dormitory. He blinked a few times. "Oh." He said with astonishment. "Oh. Ron isn't going to like that."

Hermione shrugged with indifference "I don't give a damn about what he likes or not." She flopped down on one of the unoccupied beds and crossed her arms. She wasn't keen on talking with Harry about her relationship to Ron.

Harry cleared his throat haltingly. "I… uhm… I just wanted to know if everything is alright between you two."

Hermione sat up and gave her best to reassure Harry. "Don't worry Harry. It's just… well, we have kind of different views of things when it comes to the War and how things should be solved. When the War is over and Ron and I are on our honeymoon, you'll miss our little catfights."

Harry rose his brow in doubt but said nothing.

Hermione smiled when she saw that she had stolen his thunder.

"But another question. What's the matter with Amanda?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Amanda? Why? What's the trouble?" Hermione looked at her friend with concern in her eyes.

Amanda was a sixteen year old girl who lost her parents at the very beginning of the civil war six years ago. Hermione had found her on the battleground, next to two Death Eaters as the little girl -sobbing and confused- tried to wake up her parents. Hermione had taken the poor soul with her and given her a new home in Hogwarts. It didn't take long for Amanda to forget that she was the daughter of two Death Eaters but to consider Hermione as an older sister and guardian. Hermione had taught her everything she had been taught at the same age and nobody was surprised that young Amanda felt quite at home at the library, her nose buried in huge books. She was cheerful, stout-hearted and eager for knowledge; everyone simply adored her. Hermione caught herself in spotting more similarities between the both of them than she wanted to admit.

"Amanda crossed my way to the Gryffindor-tower. She seemed to be a bit pale and didn't even greet me."

Hermione felt concern rising in her heart. "That doesn't look like her. Normally she keeps sneaking around you from the moment she knows that you're back at Hogwarts. I thought she was in the library studying. I'll go and look for her."

"And what about him?" Harry pointed at Draco.

"Neville said he wouldn't wake up at least until tomorrow morning. The bloodforming potion he gave to him has a strong soporific side-effect."

Harry nodded, slightly relieved, before leaving the dormitory with Hermione to look for Amanda. They searched for her half an hour; first in the library, then downstairs in the kitchen where Dobby was preparing some food. But the faithful house elf who was still looking after Hogwarts hadn't seen her, he did, however, promise to look for her too. Lastly, Hermione climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower but she knew the moment she reached the top that Amanda wasn't there. Slowly the light faded making Hermione really concerned, but she decided to return to the dormitory and wait there for Amanda, since Harry and Dobby were looking for the girl too. When she said the password 'sugarplum' for the girls' dormitory, the portraithole opened to reveal a small figure sitting at the bed of Draco Malfoy.

"Amanda!" Hermione half-shouted in shock, hurrying over to the young girl who looked at her with eyes filled with fear. Hermione pulled the teenager she nearly considered as her daughter in her arms. "Amanda. I was really worried. Where have you been?" She stroked the cheek of her fosterling lovingly and swept a long strand of curly, walnut brown her out of her delightful face. "Don't be afraid, Amanda. He can't harm you; he's unconscious."

Hermione was surprised when a single tear made his way down on Amanda's face. "Will he wake up again, Hermione?"

Hermione stared at the girl, bemused. "I hope so. Neville did his best."

Amanda nodded in silence before swell of tears and words broke out of her. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." The girl sobbed and buried her face at Hermione's shoulder. "It's all my fault! Because of me he's on the edge to death and I know you and Ron were arguing about it. I listened to Harry and Ron when they arrived with their brooms. I heard all about it."

"What are you talking about, Amanda? You've been here in Hogwarts all the time. Did you have a bad dream?" she looked at her young friend with bewilderment.

But Amanda's tears only started dripping faster down her porcelain cheeks and she shook her head vehemently. "I was on the battlefield. I… I… really wanted to help… I was… so sick of not being able to do anything. All the others of my age were out there! You know they were there too! I just took my broom and flew there and went to the others."

Hermione's eyes widened in pure shock and disbelief. "Amanda!" she gasped.

The girl wiped defiantly at a tear on her face, sniffling loudly. "Hagrid always says that sitting around and doing nothing is the worst of all. He said he would love to curse anybody who could fight but doesn't. He told me that he is sick of just watching how all of his friends are in danger and lose their lives."

Hermione nearly was beside herself with anger. How could Hagrid dare to take his bitterness out on Amanda? But before she could say a thing the words sputtered out of the girl's mouth again.

"Suddenly I saw someone who was wrapped in his cloak, trying to reach the center. He was too tall and broad-shouldered to be one of the young wizards. I followed him." Her voice became low. "Then he turned around and I saw his face. It was Draco Malfoy, I recognized him because Ron had once shown me an article in the newspaper with that mug shot. I saw his cool gaze and his white-blonde hair." Amanda's voice was nothing more than a whisper. "He realized that I had recognized him and stared right in my eyes. I was sure he would kill me any moment. But it didn't happen, Hermione. He did nothing."

Hermione pulled the shivering girl closer to her arms. "What happened then, Amanda?" she asked with a soft voice.

"Somewhere in the front there was a loud bang. Some of the others started screaming and running away which was when I woke up from the trance. He was still looking at me with that strange gaze; it was like he didn't really see me. Then I pulled my wand and hexed him with the _Furnunculus_-curse. I couldn't make up anything better," she admitted with embarrassment in her voice.

Hermione nodded. Understanding now why Malfoy had all those bursted bruises all over his body.

"It seemed he was completely surprised that I had hexed him. He stumbled and fell over on his back. He must have hit a jagged stone because his side started bleeding strongly in the next moment. I stepped near him to see if he was still alive. Then I saw his wand." Amanda looked for something in her cloak with shaky fingers and handed a long strait wand over to Hermione. "I picked it up and ran away; my broom wasn't far from reach. I arrived here just a few moments after you brought Malfoy to the castle. Hagrid told me." Amanda's voice broke down. Hermione tried to comfort her within her embrace. "I don't want him to die. He didn't harm me. I don't want to be a murderer!" the girl sobbed desperately.

"He isn't going to die. I promise." Hermione's hand was wrapped tightly around Malfoy's wand when she left the Gryffindor-tower and headed towards the Great Hall. Harry, Ron and Hagrid were sitting there and discussing something. Inflamed with rage Hermione rushed to Hagrid.

"Who do you think who you are you embittered old stupid git?" Harry's and Ron's eyes locked in astonishment. "How could you allow Amanda to follow us to the battlefield? How could you?"

Hagrid mumbled embarrassed words in his beard.

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tbc   



	6. Chapter 5

_Hey there! Sorry it took so long to update but we (means Amanda and me) have been quite busy. So it took some time for me to translate the chapter in english and for Amanda to correct it. Just to make things worse I'd been quite sick for more than a week and had been sleeping nearly all the time so I didn't update. Hope you'll enjoy the new chapter. Thanks a lot to Amanda for correcting it._

_P.S. I bought some Englishbooks (grammar and that kind of stuff) in order to study a bit. I promise to improve my English. Then I'll be able to translate the chapters into English more quickly and perhaps my author notes won't be such a mess like now._

**Chapter 5**

Draco was struck with a sense of dizziness. The world around him had become dark and not a thing could be heard. His head felt weightless as if it was filled with cotton. Was this what death felt like? Would he be trapped in this darkness forever, not being able to feel or hear anything? He wanted to give a load groan but he wasn't sure if he had a mouth to make sound with, or if his body would obey his orders.

He didn't know how long he lay there. Minutes, hours, or even days? Would there be time at all in the eternity? He had been sure that there was at least something after death; an afterlife. He had expected some sort of punishment for his cruel acts while living. He had accepted his fate to spend his afterlife in hell. But this emptiness… wasn't it worse than the hell he had thought of? This insensibility? Left alone with his thoughts of his wasted life? Was this the true hell? Would it drive him mad? Yes, this was the answer. This was hell and it was worse than he had dared to expect.

But then he believed to hear a sudden sound, a soft tone that cut the silence around him; scarcely audible but bright like a small bell. Was it his imagination? The first sign of insanity? But there it was again; this time louder and more noticeable. It was a buzzing like leaves softly swaying in the wind. Draco tried to locate the wonderful sound despairingly, like clutching at straws. He exerted himself to hear more of the humming; it was his ray of hope in the darkness. His senses were stretched to the edge of madness when the humming suddenly fell silent. Desperation rose in his heart, but then it was back. It sounded closer to him and Draco recognized that it was a female voice that was humming a melancholic melody. He was spellbound by the mixture of easiness and wistfulness that the song released in his soul. And then there was the sweetest and most dulcet voice he had ever heard in his entire life.

_There's a faerie in my head and I call her Lady Rosenred,  
why she came there I don't know  
No I don't know..._

Draco's heart seemed to burst.

_We wander worlds sometimes, green forests, stars and stories,  
a secret time under three moons  
We walk the clouds at times and ride on dragon faeries,  
a drink with friends under three moons_

The tender voice freed all his emotions that he had repressed every single day. It had to be an angel calling for his soul with her song. In this moment he was really glad to be dead and without a body. He was sure he would have cried at the sound of the angel's dolce voice.

_Say will you dream with me tonight, under moonlit skies?_

Draco had the feeling that his soul was turning from inside out and reaching for the angel.

_We run the hills sometimes, do battles upon evil,  
a bard so sings within the shadows  
We turn the ghosts around and jam with angry mages,  
a silent dream within the shadows _

Was this wonderful female voice singing of the war? Was this moment where he had to face the Last Judgement? Was this his decision between good and evil?

_And then we turn around and find all forests gone,  
and find all stars and stories gone  
And then we turn around and find all faeries gone,  
and find all dragon faeries gone _

No, this was his lesson. He had been part of the destruction of the magic. This was his verdict and his punishment all in one. He felt remorse.

_Say will you dream with me tonight, under moonlit skies?_

And then the song was over. This was the very moment as Draco Malfoy felt his body again. It was like pain to feel his limbs again and his blood running through his veins.

It felt weird and the sudden disappearance of the angel's voice pained his heart. It was still dark around him, causing him to realize that his eyes were closed. He opened them carefully; the light was dim but still enough of it to see his surroundings. A canopy with heavy fabric hovered above him and something about it seemed to be familiar. It reminded him slightly of the canopy of his former bed in the Slytherin Dungeons, though it had the wrong colour. The old colour had been a dark green and this was a ruby colored one. Carefully he turned his head. He was in large room with walls out of stone; there were more beds in it and all decorated with the same fabric. He closed his eyes again and felt his head resting on a soft pillow; he felt irritated. He was dead; that he was sure of. His injuries had been too bad to save his life.

But was this hell? A soft pillow and a canopy-bed? He scanned again his surrounding. The room was empty except the beds and a writing-table across from the bed he laid on. Papers and scrolls were spread over the small desk and a white quill stood in a nearly empty inkpot. Various books piled up on the right and the left of the small desk on the floor and on a chair. And then Draco recognized the angel; she stood near to the window her head leaning against the cool stone. Draco could only see part of her profile, because she watched the sunrise that covered the window with warm light. Her light brown, curly hair nearly reached her hip; glowing like gold in the reverberation of the sun. He was sure she wouldn't reach to his shoulders if he stood beside her. Her petite figure in this surreal light reminded him of a fragile chiselled sculpture. It was exactly how he had imagined an angel to look like. But why was she here? An angel with him?

Draco wanted to ask the angel, why he, second leader of the Death Eaters, was here, where he was and what was going to happen to him. He opened his mouth but no sound came out of it. He closed it again. Why wasn't he able to speak? Then it came to his mind. The Curse his father had jinxed him with! _Silencio totalis! _But how was it possible that the curse still held its power over him after death? Draco had the certain feeling that something was wrong, that he didn't understand an important fact. He tried to move but it didn't work either. His hands and feet were held by something. He tried harder to break free but the grip at his ankles was adamant. He turned his head to the side and discovered a bluishly shining rope around his wrists tying him to the bed. His gaze shot to his feet to find the magic ropes there too, enwinding his ankles. A binding spell? Draco shook his head. Was he in hell after all? Torture and agony awaiting him?

The angel seemed to have heard his sudden movements because she turned around quietly. Draco stared into two beautiful warm brown eyes very well-known to him. He knew them since his schooldays and afterwards had seen them in the newspaper quite often. And these eyes stared it him piercingly. Draco's head fell back to the pillow. Now he was sure; this was definitely hell.

"Welcome back to the living, Malfoy," Hermione Granger said grinning. There stood the most hated mudblood of all Death Eaters.

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 6

_My German equivalent of this story had been finished over 2 years ago. Now I have the time to translate all 47 chapters. I hope you will enjoy!_

_It's perfectly in line with the last movie but ignores Harry Potter and the deathly Hallows, since this story has been written before the release of the last book._

_Thanks again to my lovely friend Lyricoloratura who decided to help me with my English. Love you, honey!_

_Chapter 1 to 5 will be edited in the next few days (only grammar and vocabulary, not the content)  
_

_Tell me what you think about this story!  
_

**Chapter 6**

It had been a very exhausting night. Hermione leaned her head against the mighty stonework, sighing and staring out the window at the crack of dawn.

Fog lay in the meadows of Hogwarts, and some lonely treetops of the Forbidden Forest seemed to hover like ghosts over a foggy lake. Involuntarily Hermione was reminded of the Dementors who had once stricken terror into people's hearts on the school grounds. It seemed to be a long time ago. A shiver ran down her back and she curled her arms around herself.

After Hermione's outburst of fury last night, Hagrid had admitted meekly that it hadn't been his intention at all to deter Amanda from following her friends into the battle. His excuse had been that he had strongly believed that the rearguard with the young witches and wizards would never have to go into action. He had hoped that it would raise her self-esteem to be able to say that she had been with them at least once.

Thereupon Hermione had told them Amanda's story, holding Malfoy's wand under their noses as proof. While she had been reporting in full, Hagrid had paled immensely and had tried to avoid Ron's furious gaze and Harry's admonishing eyes.

Hermione knew that Hagrid had meant no harm, but he had once again proven his occasional lack of precaution and wariness. But that was him. She smiled as she remembered Buckbeak, the Hippogriff that Hagrid once had brought to his Care of Magical Creatures lesson in their third year.

For all that he was a Hippogriff, Buckbeak had indeed been a very gentle animal and he had been living a long time at Hagrid's place after Sirius' death. But still, it would have been Hagrid's duty not to bring such a wild and potentially dangerous animal to a bunch of green pupils. Malfoy's injury had proven it, even though he had provoked it himself.

Malfoy.

The arguments and the enmity with Draco Malfoy seemed to be a constant thread in her turbulent life. She didn't remember the amount of days she had suffered from his evil jokes and insults as a young girl. Countless times she had been sitting in the library and been crying because he had called her a mud-blood, impure, not worthy of the wizarding world.

After her sixth year in Hogwarts, Malfoy had joined the Death-eaters. Lucius Malfoy, his father, had been freed from the prison of Azkaban and the Death-eaters had regained new power.

Draco Malfoy, once sitting in the same lessons as the Trio, had become their professed enemy.

And now he lay on a bed behind her and seemed to have cheated death by a hairbreadth with her help. Even though she Malfoy disgusted her, she knew she had done right.

But soon she had realized that her promise to Amanda, that Draco would survive, had been more difficult to keep than Hermione had expected.

She returned late at night to the girls' dormitory and had found Malfoy in a dreadful state. Everywhere on his skin had been beads of sweat and although he had been still unconscious, his body had seemed to writhe with pain. Hermione had laid her hand on his forehead and had recognized that Draco had an abnormally high temperature.

Neville had come round like he had promised, but hadn't been able to help. 'It's his body temporarily rejecting the new blood forming in his veins,' he had told her. They couldn't reduce the fever by any magic because of the danger that it could lead to nasty interactions with the blood-forming potion. And that would have meant the end for the already-weakened patient.

There hadn't been anything left to do for Hermione except to cool Malfoy's overheated body with Muggle homespun remedies. So she had been sitting the whole night beside the man who had made her life Hell every time he had the chance; trying to cool down his fever with cool compresses she changed every half hour.

She had ordered Dobby to bring a big pitcher of willow bark-tea trying to dose Malfoy with the liquid regularly to encourage him to sweat more profusely and bring down his own body temperature.

When Dobby had recognized his former master's son in the Gryffindor-tower he had dropped with shock the first pitcher filled with tea to the ground, and the boiling hot liquid had scalded his feet.

Hermione had healed the house-elf's pain in no time with a wave of her wand, but only her insistent begging had convinced him to bring another pitcher with tea.

But a short time afterwards, Hermione had caught Dobby red-handed trying to empty the pitcher again early – this time on purpose. She had been able to get a hold of the handle before it slipped out of the hand of the house-elf, who had an innocent and lamb-like expression on his face. Nearly all of the boiling tea would have splashed onto Draco's chest.

Malfoy had been writhing in this life-threatening fever for hours. Once he had even opened his eyes widely and had stared at her for seconds but then had fallen back to unconsciousness with a rearing up of his body.

After hours his temperature had lowered and Hermione had fallen with a relieved sigh to the next best bed.

When she had heard the first bird chirping she had known it: Draco Malfoy had survived the night.

It had been time to make precautions that her patient wouldn't try to escape or even worse would try to kill her directly after waking up. With a spell she had tied him up to the bed with magical ropes.

This had been just a few minutes ago.

And now she was leaning against the window and watched the sunrise waiting for her patient to wake up. The beauty of the sunrise made up to her for the sleepless night. The golden light slowly blazed a trail through the fog. A Muggle-song came to her mind that she once had heard at her parents' home and she started humming quietly.

Hermione thought she heard a rustling behind her and turned around. Two silvery eyes with a bluish tint stared at her. It seemed to take a moment for Draco Malfoy to realize who she was, but then she saw how his eyes widened recognizing who stood in front of him.

Hermione smiled. To see this expression on Malfoy's face was worth saving his life. It paid back everything, every time she had cried because of him in her childhood. Apparently he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth but it closed it again without saying a word. His gaze wandered between Hermione and the ties around his hands and feet and he tried to free himself. His chest rose and fell quickly because of his useless efforts, straining his weakened body. Hermione stepped closer. Her smile grew wider as she believed she saw his eyes filling with fear.

"Welcome back to the living, Malfoy."

Hermione stepped close to the bed. With a little wave of her wand the ropes around Malfoy's ankles tightened so he wasn't able to move an inch. She knew it was time to get Harry and Ron but she wanted to enjoy the feeling of triumph just a little bit longer.

For once in his dreadful life, Draco Malfoy had to know how it felt like to be the weaker one. A sarcastic smile crossed her lips as she looked over him from head to toe. His breath was quick and shallow, his widened black pupils nearly pushed away the bluish silver of his irises. Looking at his upper body, still shirtless, she realized that his muscles were stressed near to rupture. He was a wild animal through and through, captured in a trap - and Hermione could almost hear the adrenaline rushing through his veins. But it wouldn't help him.

"I have to disappoint you, Malfoy." Hermione waved with her wand between her fingers.

"You won't be able to flee. These bonds…" she pointed at the bluish shimmering ropes "… can only be undone by a certain counter-spell. And because I have developed that spell I'm quite sure that you can't help yourself."

Draco simply stared constantly into Hermione's eyes, but didn't say a word. As she reached for him with her hand and touched the skin on his throat, he winced. Hermione smirked:

"Don't worry, Malfoy. I just want to check for your pulse."

Then she went to the portrait hole, opened it and shouted as loud as possible: "Harry! Ron! Our guest is awake now!"

Immediately she heard a sudden movement from two different corners of the Gryffindor-tower. There was a loud swearing and Hermione knew that Ron had risen from bed falling over his own feet once again. Harry instead seemed to have stayed in the common room the whole night reading and finally falling asleep. The heavy book besides him fell with a loud bang from the armrest to the ground as he stood up.

Hermione smiled thankfully. She knew Harry had tried to stay awake for her benefit- to be there for her if she had needed any help.

She imagined Harry yawning, putting his glasses on, tousling through his black messy hair and waiting for Ron, who probably stomped out of his room with a grim expression on his face.

When Ron stepped through the portrait hole, Hermione put a hand on his chest in order to bar him from attacking Malfoy. It would destroy her whole work of the last night. Ron's eyes narrowed to slits as he stared angrily at Malfoy but didn't say anything; crossing his arms he leaned against the wall.

Then Harry stepped in. Hermione had to admit that Harry made a commanding and formidable impression even though he seemed to be overtired. Harry wasn't as tall as Ron was but he had an athletic build, a quick step and the calmness of a battle-scarred man. Furthermore, he currently had a short unshorn three-day beard, the black stubble contrasting strongly with his skin. All in all Harry Potter had become a man of 27 years who really looked like the adventurer and fighter he was.

His voice was accordingly unhurried as he stepped forward to Malfoy, who had now leveled his gaze firmly on Harry.

"Good morning, Draco. How do you feel today?"

But Harry never got an answer from Draco Malfoy. Malfoy simply stared back.


End file.
